Ginny didn't know what was going on.

It had been a while since she had seen Harry, and it was way past the one-hour deadline that Voldemort had issued. The fighting had started once again, with the Death Eaters and werewolves swarming the castle. At the beginning, the Weasleys and Hermione had stuck together, until the tide of enemies had separated them. Ginny and Hermione had been fighting back-to-back, and they had been herded to one side of the Entrance Hall, fighting with their backs against a wall, and their shoulders pressed together.

And slowly, the Death Eaters moved around the castle, either because their opposition fell or because they were giving chase. Ginny and Hermione took a second to breathe, before they were assaulted by another set of spells, these ones so much faster than anything they had faced before. Ginny dodged, ducking under a bone breaker and summoning some rubble to take a bombarda. Hermione threw up a shield, and Ginny dropped the rubble. Hermione's strength was waning against the power of the spells.

Ginny went on the offensive, flinging out incendios and bone breakers, powerful cutting curses interspersed with bombardas. But Dolohov was fast, and not as tired as them. Ginny could feel her arm dropping, her spells slowing down.

Dolohov attacked then.

A sickly yellow spell hit Hermione's left arm, and her shield fell. She cried out.

Ginny threw all the curses and jinxes she knew, desperate for one of them to hit. Dolohov didn't even bat an eyelash, simply blocked all of them and sent an expelliarmus at her. It hit, and Ginny watched with a sense of horror as it flew far away. She was a mere annoyance to him.

Dolohov walked up to them, eyes bright and amused. He looked her up and down, and Ginny resisted the urge to cover herself. She knew her clothes were torn from the battle, and his gaze was making her uncomfortable. But she lifted her head anyways, snarl on her face.

"You have courage, I must admit," he said, grudging respect in his voice. "But you are all losing so badly."

Hermione looked up from where she had crumpled to her knees. Slowly, she stood up. "You will lose, Dolohov. You will always, always lose."

Hermione sounded sure, just as she always did. But somehow Ginny couldn't scrounge up that optimism. Especially when Dolohov laughed, and even that sounded like him gloating.

"You wouldn't have any savior if Harry Potter died. And you would be lost." The line was punctuated by Bellatrix's mad cackle. Dolohov merely kept smiled, serene and mocking. Indulgent. "I could take care of you, you and your muggle born."

"There is no world where we would need your help!" Hermione snarled, baring her teeth. There was nothing she could do to back her claim. Their wands were on the floor far away from them. And there was no one alive, and on their side, in sight.

"I wasn't talking to you, little mudblood." Dolohov continued, undaunted by Hermione's empty words. "Besides," he turned back to Ginny. "Harry Potter is dead."

She felt Hermione's shock, the way her friend stiffened minutely and the stuttering of her heartbeat. She felt herself react the exact same way, her heart stopping for moments, her brain struggling to comprehend his words.

"You're lying," Hermione growled. Her older friend, her best friend, her only remaining friend, pushed Ginny behind and glared at the offending death eater. At the man who was claiming that her best friend was dead. "You're lying!"

Ginny sensed the desperation and stubbornness in Hermione, the desperation winning out. And by the small, sympathetic, amiable (cruel, cruel, cruel) smile on Dolohov's face, he saw that desperation too.

"Oh, but why would I lie?" He refused to address Hermione, looking at Ginny over the shorter girl's shoulder. "I have nothing to gain from a lie. But you my dear," he glanced at Hermione, "my dears, you have everything to gain!"

Ginny was no empath. She had grown up amongst six older, less emotional brothers, and turned out less sensitive to the feelings of others. But with the devastation surrounding her, surrounding her best friend and the despair radiating from Hermione, she suddenly wondered what would be different if she had been more empathetic towards those who had died around her, fallen as she battled her way towards Harry. Always Harry, never anyone else.

And she looked at Dolohov's smile, his eyes, his face and she felt the empathy he emanated. He's cruel, her mind said. Look at him. And she looked. She saw his marred face, blood flowing freely from the gash on his forehead. She saw the charred flesh remaining on his left hand. He doesn't look kind, she agreed.

And she forced herself to care, because she could feel Hermione giving up. She tried to feel something, anything other than the indifference she felt growing in her, spreading through her. And she saw his smile – twisted and beautiful, mocking and empathetic, triumphant and cruel. But she couldn't bring herself to feel anything. He knew he was winning, he would have everything he wanted. Because Harry, her darling Harry, their savior Harry, he was gone. She would never see his face again, or look into his green eyes and see the beauty he possessed despite the world's cruelty. Ginny couldn't do anything to stop Dolohov as he raised his wanted, damning words on his lips.

Her brother's curse jolted her from her lethargy. One of the twins, Fred… no, George (because Fred was dead, died a long, long time ago. But it had only been a few hours since she'd heard his voice!), George ran towards the two of them, and he destroyed what's left of Dolohov's face. Hermione had collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap.

"Gin. Ginny!" His voice was spiked with fear, panic, pain. Agony. "Please, Ginny. Snap out of it! Please!"

She'd never heard him plead. Ever. He was always jesting, laughing, talking, babbling, humorous. But here stood her funniest brother, and he wasn't making a joke. He was pleading, begging, imploring.

"Hey, Geo!" She mumbled. Her tongue seemed to be a fumbling mess in her mouth, and she didn't know if he could understand what she was saying.

He relaxed slightly (she didn't even know he was tensed) and smiled. She couldn't help but analyze it – a sad, brittle, relieved smile from the only brother Ginny knew was alive. She didn't know what had happened to her other brothers. There was a lull in the mindless destruction of Hogwarts and her students, and George hugs her carefully. Her energy drained rapidly as she came down from the adrenaline high. Her vision tunneled and her mind was shutting down, yet she could feel her brother's warmth surrounding her.

"Hey, Gin." He spoke. And in the moment that was enough.

Several minutes later, he pulled away and looked her straight in the eyes.

"I'm not going to survive this battle, Gin." He said, noting her almost unresponsive state.

She didn't have the energy left to speak properly, to hold a conversation, but she attempted to interrupt him. The naïve, small part of her that was still childish tried to reach out to him, to tell him that he was making a fuss of nothing. She wanted to be an optimist and tell him everything would be fine. She didn't know what happened to Hermione, only that the older girl was unconscious, lying next to Ginny in a mockery of sleep.

But she saw the broken shards that his soul resembled, the remains of the death of his twin. She knew that if he lost his purpose right now, which was revenge, he would waste away. He couldn't stop himself now, and a vindictive part of her didn't want him to.

He continued, the pause in his one-sided conversation enough to convey the implied meaning from Ginny to him. "I'm going to send you to a safe location. You and Hermione. And whomever I come across, who is still alive."

Ginny wanted to protest again. She couldn't let her brother die! But she couldn't do anything, prone as she was on the ground. Her body had practically abandoned her, and her energy was non-existent.

"Bill and Charlie know where it is. I've already sent Ron ahead, Gin. Don't worry about me." George smiled, and Ginny knew that was the last time she would see her brother.

She wanted to clutch at his shirt. To hug him and never let him go. To apologize and vent and tell him that she loves him, despite any misunderstandings or arguments. But she couldn't do any of it.

"Don't worry about me, Gin! I'll be fine. Take care of yourself, okay?" He said, brushing her red hair out of her face. "I've lived my life how I wished to, and now, I will die, and I might have some regrets. But I wouldn't trade my life for anything, and if I had to redo everything, I would. But Gin, you have your entire life ahead of you! So live. Win this war and live!"

She wanted to ask him how. She had so much to talk to him about, everything that she couldn't tell him over the previous year. And she wanted to cry with him over Fred's death, if she couldn't prevent it. She wanted to mourn her brothers who would and had sacrifice themselves for her in a heartbeat. But most of all, she wanted to fulfill his request. The only problem was that she didn't know how.

As if reading her mind, he says. "Start with what you have, Gin. Always do that, even with something as simple as pranks. Use what resources and people and ideas and thoughts that you have. And then Gin, then you do what you can, and everything will fall into the places they should be. And do your best, always." He paused for one last breath and then smiled, a grin so sharp, deadly and heartbreakingly kind that Ginny wanted to punch him. "I love you, Gin. I always will, more than you could ever know!"

Ginny wanted to kick and scream, but the most she could do was whimper as her brother placed a piece of rubble in her hand and connected her hand to Hermione's. A whispered word later, and the two of them were pulled away from Hogwarts, through a long distance. Halfway through the journey, Ginny lost her fight for consciousness.

In a secure, safe-guarded room, Ronald Weasley jumped as his unconscious best friend and blacked out younger sister crashed into the floor after appearing from thin air.